Finding out you’re pregnant is the happiest moment for any woman working on growing her family. As soon as you see the positive result in that pee stick, it all becomes magical. That’s exactly what happened to me.
In February 2015, I found out I was pregnant. Like most, I was a week late and I quickly peed on that stick. When that positive result came out, I was ecstatic. At the time, my husband and I were planning on baby #2. We were very happy. We had my pregnancy confirmed by my OB/GYN and was given the due date of Nov. 11 of the same year.
As soon as the positive results were confirmed, all these plans started forming in my head. Would I have a boy or another girl? What would be his or her name? How would my oldest feel about being a big sister? I starting thinking of the beauty of our family growing to be a family of four.
Then everything changed one Friday morning. I remember every detail so vividly. It was April 24, I was over 12 weeks into my pregnancy. I woke up to some spotting. I didn’t think much of it as it was very light. I kissed my husband as he left for work. Then, I dropped off my daughter at preschool and went back home to monitor my spotting. As the morning progressed my spotting was getting darker. I called my husband to tell him I would go to the ER, to get it checked out. I told him not to worry but little did I know.
When I arrived at the ER, I was taken in and seen by a doctor. When I was rolled into the ultrasound room. I felt scared. The technician was taking all kinds of photos and taking a lot longer than a regular ultrasound. I kept asking her if everything was ok. Her answer was, “The doctor will go over the results with you”. At that moment I knew something was wrong. Why couldn’t she tell me, yes your baby is fine or not. I knew then that the doctor was the one to deliver the sad news.
When the doctor arrived at my room, she confirmed my suspicion. I had lost my baby. I broke down crying. I immediately called my husband. I had to tell him over the phone that we had lost our baby. That the hopes of our family growing were not going to happen at that moment. That any plans we had for our baby had disappeared. He too was sad. He rushed to my side. When he arrived, we embraced. I felt as if I had failed our family. I failed to grow our family. Failed in bringing a little sibling for my daughter. I failed to carry my baby to full term. I failed my baby.
I had to go through a D&C procedure. I went under full anesthesia. When I woke up, I no longer had my baby inside me. Not a trace of him/her. I felt like a complete failure as a mom. The procedure itself was not painful at all. I can’t say the same emotionally.
Emotionally, I was a complete mess. To say I was sad was an understatement. It was an emotional roller coaster. My oldest daughter at the time was 2.5 years old. She had known I was pregnant. I had to sit down and tell her we were no longer bringing home a baby. Her first question was, “Why?”. I too asked myself why. I wanted to know that answer as well baby girl. Why would I no longer have a baby? Why did my body reject my baby? Instead, I told her that baby went to a better place. I place where he/she would become an angel. An Angel that will look after her and be proud of his/her big sister. We cried a bit together and then she moved along her day. I wished I could have been that resilient. I was not.
I become very sad, very depressed. But I had my daughter, I had to be strong for her. I had to go about my day as if nothing had happened. And I did. I suppressed my feelings. I became “strong” for my daughter. When people asked me about my pregnancy, I had to tell them the haunting truth. I was no longer pregnant. I had lost my baby. I talked about it more and more with people. I came to find out friends went through the same thing before and I had never known.
Why do we not talk about it? Why do we keep this quiet? Miscarriages happen to 1 out of 4 pregnancies. Someone you know went through it. It affects us and that’s ok. It's ok to feel sad. I did get pregnant with my rainbow baby 6 months later. I had my second daughter a year later after my miscarriage. Then continued to have my third baby. Though I did get to grow my family, the loss of my baby still affects me. I remember him/her. I have a song that reminds me tremendously about my baby. (I’ll post it below). I miss my baby dearly even though I never had the fortune to meet him/her. I will always have my baby in my heart.